Rooted Sky 2007 - III. Words Around Death
Cave We did not need to squeeze through this black crack, or scrape our elbows at a turn; our nostrils would exchange stone damp for cedar needles. And why twist over some slippery crevice, just to break a film of olive-purple moss with fingernails or granite chips? So what it maple twigs would scratch the sun. This shorn, moist ledge will not display for long my thin and ragged: B.S. '41
[ "Cave" was originally in Wisconsin Review. ] ------- Brian A. J. Salchert
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